Oh, Winter
by OrionsBeltloops
Summary: It was like a perpetual case of winter downs. One that didn't care what season it was: winter, spring, summer, or fall. Rated for Language and eventual slash. Inside: Kyle's depressed and Stan tries to fix him.


Warnings: Language and an emo Kyle. Basically things you would expect in every other South Park fanfic.

Disclaimer: Matt and Trey have dibs on the characters. I only own the plot and Cheese and Crackers.

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_Beep._

"_Dude? You there? Look… Jesus, I don't even know what to say. I'm sorry? Maybe I should start there. I'm sorry… Dude… Please, just pick up the phone. I hate talking to answering machines. You know that. Come on, I know you're there… Well, when you feel like talking, you… you know my number…"_

_Beep._

"_Kyle, come on. It's been a while. I keep trying to talk to your mom, but she won't let me see you. Please. I said I was sorry. We all are. I miss you…"_

_Beep._

"_Why won't you answer the fucking phone? I mean, what the fuck? I said I was sorry! I…"_

_Beep…_

_You have no more messages…_

He sighed before gently placing the phone back in its cradle. Why did everyone insist on blaming themselves for his problems? He knew he should care more that everyone was worried about him, but he just… didn't. Plain and simple.

He didn't really care about a lot of things lately. School was just a waste of time, his family was only really there to annoy him, same went for his friends. There was nothing he really could say didn't annoy him anymore.

_SQUAWK!_

He jumped, startled, before whipping around to face the source of the ungodly noise. "Shut the fuck up you stupid bird!" He grabbed a book off his desk and hurled it at the cage, causing said bird to make even more noise as it flapped its wings desperately.

He hated the fucking thing. The only reason he had it was because his mother thought that a pet would be an effective way of coaxing him out of his depressive state. He didn't understand why his mother couldn't have gotten him a nicer, quieter pet. Maybe a turtle…

But no, she had to go for the loudest most obnoxious fucking thing in the store. And she named it Cheese.

Sure, the name may sound retarded, but it was actually part of a set. His mother had not only bought him one, but two birds. The other's name was Crackers. Cheese and Crackers, get it? But of course, Crackers died the very first day he was brought home. Apparently Cheese didn't want a roommate. Demonic little thing.

But why was he rambling about his bird? Oh yeah, because the fucking thing wouldn't shut up. He was sick of all the noise. Just sick of it. He had even tried multiple times to get rid of it by _accidentally _leaving the window and the cage open, but of course the thing was too retarded to know when it was given a chance at freedom. He finally settled on the next best thing: leaving the cage in his brother's room. He wasn't home and wouldn't be for hours, so he would have some peace and quiet until then.

But just to make sure, he quickly looked out the window, and nope, empty driveway. Meaning his parents weren't there and neither was his brother. He continued to stare out the window until he noticed tiny white flecks drifting down toward the ground. That could only be one thing. _Snow._ He hated snow, and not just because he saw too much of it but because it reminded him of the one thing he hated more.

And that thing was winter. He hated winter. Hated it with a passion. Everything was just so dead in the winter. People were gone on vacations, the people who could escape at least, and everyone who was left over either tried to party all night or suffered from a severe case of winter downs.

Winter downs. Yeah, that's a laugh. He used to think that's what was wrong with him too, but his never went away. He seemed to be afflicted with a perpetual case of it. A case that didn't mind what season it was: winter, spring, summer, or fall.

His parents already knew something was wrong of course. It was hard for them not to notice when his straight A report card suddenly dropped to something far less impressive. At first they were pissed, but that anger quickly turned to concern. He wasn't responding to their yells, and he didn't care when and for how long they grounded him. He just did not care.

That attitude basically continued in all aspects of his life. His school, his family, his friends. They all noticed the changes. But while his family tried to whip him back into shape by staying in his face, his friends grew more and more distant. He didn't blame them. He basically alienated them by refusing to go anywhere and by disconnecting his phone. He just didn't want to hear them talk anymore. Every conversation turned into a speech about how concerned they were that he had heard oh so many times before, and he was just tired of it.

The worst offender seemed to be his super best friend, or his former super best friend, he didn't even know anymore. Stan used to call everyday just to check up on him, but even his calls were growing less and less frequent.

Stan, like everyone else, liked to blame himself for how Kyle was. Kyle wanted to tell him that it wasn't his fault, but he just didn't know how. Plus, that would require actually talking to him. Something he just didn't feel like doing at the moment. He didn't want to see the pain in Stan's eyes. The pain that he had caused. It would just make him more depressed.

He was frustrated with himself. Nothing he did made him feel any better, and he was starting to wonder if he was going to be a pussy, emo, jew bitch (Cartman's words, not his) for the rest of his life.

It had been going on for so long that his parents were talking about taking him to a therapist. A fucking therapist, how lame is that? Kyle hated all people lately, so he didn't see how talking to a stranger was going to help him at all, but apparently his parents had already decided and were taking him to see one tomorrow.

Kyle grabbed a business card off his dresser and glanced at the name: _Dr._ _Emily Andrews. _Kyle scowled. Was it possible to hate someone because of their name? Because she already sounded like a bitch. An image of a short, pudgy woman with thick glasses and her graying hair pulled in a bun popped into his head. Kyle scowled again before tossing the business card into the trash.

Dr. Andrews had better be up for an interesting conversation tomorrow.

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A/N: I feel bad about ending it there, but I didn't want to drag it out. I actually had some Stan/Kyle interaction set for the end of this, but it didn't feel right. I don't know about next chapter either.

Next chapter: Kyle meets Dr. Andrews and is a total bitch.

Thanks for reading! Until next time!

-Paulie


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